


I Should Tell You...

by Awesomeist0



Category: Professional Wrestling, Rent (2005), Rent - Larson, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: An incredibly niche crossover, Angst, Closeted Character, HIV+ Character, I love you came too late, Kevin won't let Sami go, M/M, NXT TakeOver: R Evolution, POV Alternating, Possessive Behavior, Possible Character Death, Post-Rent, Yes you read that paring right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awesomeist0/pseuds/Awesomeist0
Summary: Kevin has pushed Sami away thousands of times.  He's always come back to him, no matter what happens between them.But then Sami meets *him*.  That filmmaker.  And Kevin knows he's lost him.He'll do anything to make sure that Sami remains his.  Even if it means ripping away everything he loves.





	I Should Tell You...

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope that some wrestling fans also like Rent!
> 
> I'll add more detailed notes below, but a bit of suspension of disbelief is required to make this odd little crossover work. This is set in 2015, just before R-Evolution. I know that Rent was set in 1989/1990, but for the purposes of making this work, we're pushing up the timeline a little. The events of the musical took place in 2005 (when the movie came out). I know that this changes quite a bit about the setting and tone of Rent, but this is a mostly self indulgent story. I hope you can still enjoy!

He's been at the performance center for a week now, and nothing is right here. By all accounts, it should be perfect. He's been unknowingly striving towards this for decades; a stable home for him and his family he can return to every night, if only for the time being. Making the kind of money that he couldn't even bring himself to dream of. They  _ had  _ made it work in the past; him and Karina sacrificing for a dream he sometimes felt foolish for having. But now, things should have been perfect.

They weren't.

He can't stop watching  _ them.  _ They're sitting together again in the timekeeper's area just beside the ring, and he can practically feel the warmth in Sami's smile. Kevin knows he's working carelessly; Tyler Breeze actually gasps in pain at a chop that hits just slightly too hard. He should feel guilty. The new guy to the company, and the last thing he wants is a reputation among his peers as being unsafe.

But he can't. Stop.

That  _ cameraman _ . The one with the dirty blonde hair and sad eyes. The one who's always too cold, wrapped in an oversized hand knit scarf and still managing to shiver in the combo of Florida heat and the stage lights that seem to bake the ring. He's heard about him from Sami. He's an  _ artist _ ; plucked from New York at a film festival by Hunter himself. He has a name, of course, one he won't bring himself to speak. One that blisters his skin when he feels it fall from Sami's lips; so bright and beautiful and almost like a prayer in a language he can't understand.

_ Mark Cohen _ .

They've been inseparable apparently before Kevin came to the performance center. It wasn't exactly something he noticed at first... _ he _ was just there at ringside all in black like so many others. Pretty much a living set piece, mostly hidden by an enormous camera and watching. As a cameraman, it was his job to watch them, but it was the way  _ he _ watched Sami that made his

_ //heart break// _

skin crawl. When _he_ was near Sami. Be it at ringside when he worked the weekly tapings. At the catering table with the two of them together, surrounded by a sea of humanity. Oh, Kevin knows he shouldn't be able to see them as clearly as he does in such a huge crowd. But the odds were in his favor, and it didn't matter where he sat. He could always. Always see everything. Sami's 

_ //adorable// _

twisted little grin that only came out around  _ him _ now. Which hadn't always been the case; he could remember the way the sun seemed to burst from Sami's every pore when the two of them were together. Back when the world was theirs, it was the Kevin and Sami show. Before everything had ripped them apart.

Kevin can feel himself blatantly staring at them. Barely able to muster the strength to finish his match, but it was a bunch of pointless drills so it couldn't matter to him. Especially not the far away look in  _ that cameraman's _ eyes, his stupid lips too thin and chapped from biting at them in times of high stress. Still smiling wistfully. Looking at Sami like he was the entire fucking universe wrapped in a 6 foot package of too much energy and too many scars from a career based on pushing his body too far. Kevin knows them all. Has given Sami most of them.

He's pushed himself too hard today. That's why he was suddenly nauseous and chasing the breath that fled from him in shuddering gasps. It had nothing. Nothing to do with  _ his _ hand clasped within Sami's, fingertips brushing against the freckles and little scars Kevin can practically feel beneath his own empty fingers. Those stupid...fucking  _ stupid _ thick Harry Potter style glasses are sliding down his nose, but  _ he _ won't move his hand for even the second it would take to fix them. He looks like a fucking idiot, and he'll probably get his ass fired if they break before the taping and that means he can't do his job. That must have been why Sami did it for him. Brushing his fingers so lightly across pronounced cheekbones and the underside of a stubbled jaw. That wistful little smile growing in intensity like a sunrise, and Kevin feels his own hands turn hot and dense as if they'd grown comically too large for his body like those  _ Hulk _ gloves he bought for his son last Christmas.

"Hey. Zaynface." Kevin feels his lips curl into a sneer, unable to stop his heart from doing a little flip within his chest when Sami lets go of  _ that fucker’s _ hand. His eyes are dark, shimmering with thousands of questions Kevin knows will be forever unvoiced. Because he’s lost the right to them. Lost the right to be at the epicenter of Sami’s life, which is fucking fine with him. 

It’s fine. Fucking. Fine. 

“Get your ass in the ring. We need to go over the spots for when I humiliate you.” It should make him feel worse than it does. Sami’s finally getting his own title reign in a few weeks on the same night Kevin’s making his in ring debut. They’re going to start the video packages for him soon. He’ll be the asshole again. The scheming prizefighter, willing to sacrifice anything and fucking anyone for his family. So Sami’s going to win. And then Kevin's going to fucking annihilate him. Nothing new, nothing novel. They’ve been playing at this since RoH and the grand betrayal when he told Generico that he hated his fucking guts. 

He does. Or at least wants to. Wants to hate Sami more than anything; how they’re hopelessly entwined together because he doesn’t fucking need him. Doesn’t need anybody outside of his wife and children. They are the only things that can truly matter to him. Not this fucking ball of kinetic energy and sunshine with a horrible taste in music and no fucking filter. He doesn’t need Sami Zayn. Even if they’re a beautiful storm together. 

He fidgets impatiently, purposely ignoring the hissed  _ “prick!”  _ from Tyler Breeze as he leaves the ring. Maybe he should have played a bit nicer with his coworker. But then again, maybe he was just too tired and annoyed at dealing with all of this bullshit to put up the slightest veneer of happiness. “Anytime…” 

“Fuck, give me a second!” He can’t hear what they’re saying...doesn’t even fucking want to, but he can’t stop watching them.  _ He _ looks to be on the verge of tears for a moment, and Kevin can’t decide if that delights or infuriates him. Because the two of them together

_ //kevin and sami kevin and sami always fucking KEVINandSAMI// _

are eternal. Endless. They can fucking destroy each other; have fucking destroyed each other. And he needs to do it again. Needs to get his own hands on Sami; to fucking hurt him and make such magic with him and leave his touch and bruises on his pale skin to chase away the touch of that cameraman.  _ He’s _ probably scared of Kevin. What he’s capable of, especially if he saw any of their earlier matches. And he fucking should be.

Sami was his. Would always be his. And no one would ever come between them. Only he could tear him apart. Hurt him.

_ Love him _ .

Kevin shoves that thought as far away from him as possible. Paces around the ring a bit, leans against the turnbuckle and bites his own lip as hard as he can when he sees Sami’s brush so lightly against  _ his _ forehead. The touch as fleeting and gentle as a butterfly’s wing, and he hates that he so desperately wants to know what it feels like. Would Sami even be capable of such tenderness with him? Or are they only capable of doling out pain to each other? He’s had thousands, if not millions of kisses from his wife. Gentle. Passionate. If there was a kiss to be shared, they’d done it over the course of their life together. A fucking kiss on the forehead is nothing. So why then...fucking why did  _ he _ just light up like a tree on Christmas Eve, glittering and bright and almost too dazzling to look upon? How could a fucking brush of Sami’s lips against his skin make anyone clearly feel so much?

He didn’t know. Would never know. So he would take it out of the other man in blood.

Kevin feels his throat tighten sharply as Sami climbs into the ring. He’s taken his shirt off; skin so pale it almost glistened like the moon beneath the harsh stage lights. But he’s not the moon, Sami could never be the moon. There’s not enough darkness there.

He crosses his arms across his chest, dark eyes so flat that it breaks Kevin’s heart a little more. If Sami was angry, at least that meant he was feeling  _ anything _ towards him. But this blankness was rejection, flat out. “What do you want?”

“So snippy tonight.” He’s pushing him more than he usually would, trying to coax that spark he knew and 

_ //loved// _

missed back to the forefront of Sami’s mind.

But Sami just sighed, shaking his head so his red curls fell in his face. Almost as if he was using everything at his disposal to hide himself from Kevin. “Let’s just get on with it, all right? You want to hurt me.”

“Always.” Kevin couldn’t help glancing out at ringside, feeling a strange little flutter in his guts. “Looks like Balor’s making a move on your man.”

“Just fuck off and leave Mark alone.” It was working a little; Sami’s exhausted words were beginning to hold just the slightest drops of annoyance. Just the first few sprinkles before a rainshower, but if he kept at it, Kevin knew he would rupture. “Why are you such a jerk to him?”

Because it was fun. Because he enjoyed it. Because he fucking  _ could _ , and if anyone stood between him and Sami, they would suffer. “You’re right. Finn has fucking taste. He wouldn’t tie himself to a glorified groupie who was only using him to further his career.”

He thought that might have been it, but Sami wasn’t budging. They knew each other too well for this particular brand of mental warfare to have any effect. “Nice. Real nice.” Kevin wouldn't let himself feel the echoing pulse of loneliness when Sami turned away from him in disgust to lock eyes with  _ him _ again. That sweet little smile...the sweet little smile that was supposed to be his and his only. He'd rip it off his face by force. "Do you have any fucking clue what Mark's lived through?"

"Nope. And I can 100% guarantee I won't care." 

There was nothing else for them to say to each other. As much as he tried to hide it behind a mask of bored indifference

_ //that was almost as fucking pointless as Generico’s...he’d ripped  _ that _ off his stupid face five years ago and he could do it again// _

Kevin could see the bone-deep disgust peeking through. Sami could never fucking hide anything from him. Never. It irritates him almost to the point of pain that he would even attempt to. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

“Fine with me.” He leans carelessly against the turnbuckle, purposely obfuscating  _ his _ view of Sami as much as possible. “Unless you’ve got something better in mind, I’m thinking you eat five or six package piledrivers.”

“Whatever you want.” Sami stands in the center of the ring, arms outstretched as if offering himself up as a sacrifice to a cruel deity. He looks like a fucking angel; red hair gleaming like copper trapped in a riverbed and pale skin so damn soft that his fingers ache to touch it. To mark him as  _ his _ , leave such beautiful bruises and anyone who fucking sees them will know exactly who Sami belongs to. Who he will always belong to.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” With each heavy step he takes towards Sami, he feels his breath catch more and more until he’s actually lightheaded. Kevin loves the way he smells. Spicy sweet; all clean and light and he wants to just fucking inhale him until he has Sami trapped in his lungs forever. “Obviously I can’t just rip your fucking head off. We’re  _ best friends _ , remember?” There’s acid in his words that bubble up to his eyes like tears he can’t ever let fall. Because it would burn him. “I think you should give me a hug.”

Sami squeezes his eyes shut, face twisted and pinched in obvious agony. “Don’t.” A warning or possibly a threat, but one far too weakly spoken to have any impact. 

“C’mon.” Kevin’s voice is honey-sweet as it drips past his lips, and each word spoken makes Sami flinch. “It’s not like you’ve never been in my arms before.” He keeps his face as blank as possible, trying to eliminate any and all traces of how the thought affected him. It was too, too close to an admission. A little glimpse of what life had offered Kevin six short months ago, only for him to shove it away with both hands.

But he can’t think about it now. Not without screaming, and he certainly won’t fucking let Sami see how much it affected him.

“Why do you hate me?” Sami sounded so broken. So utterly, utterly lost, trapped in the swirling vortex of the hell Kevin had created for him. Sure, after the rehearsal ended, everything would go back to this awful new normal.  _ They’d  _ probably leave together, and Sami would spend the night in the arms of someone who in no way, shape, or form deserves him. But for now, Sami was his. And he would do everything in his power to make him remember it.

Kevin won’t answer. He can’t. So he throws his arms tightly around Sami instead.

It’s everything he’s ever fucking wanted. Feeling Sami close, pressed so tightly to his chest that he can actually feel his heart beating. It’s so fragile; a trapped bird in a cage fluttering desperately against the bars that will always hold it. Sami feels like he’s frozen against him, standing still as he tries to keep his body as far away from Kevin’s as possible. Even if it’s actually impossible. Kevin’s holding him so tightly that there’s not enough space for even a spare atom to pass between them. But it’s not enough.

He grasps Sami even tighter, physically turning him towards the outside of the ring so  _ he _ has to see everything. From so far away, Kevin can’t hear the strangled gasp of pain that falls from  _ his  _ lips. Can’t hear the whispered words of comfort Finn tries to offer, but the longer Kevin and Sami stay pressed together, the redder  _ his _ eyes get. It’s fucking delightful. Even if it can’t last forever.

So Kevin brushes his own lips across Sami’s forehead. And slams him hard down onto the ring apron.

Sami's a professional; he knows how to take even this unexpected hit safely. He manages to twist slightly, just in time to protect his neck as his body crashes like a doll at the hands of a cruel child. Oh, it's glorious. The angry red line that crosses the center of his back isn't actually deep enough to cut his skin, but on someone as pale as Sami it'll be visible for days, if not an entire week. 

He curls into a fetal position, and anyone who didn't know him would probably assume it was from pain. But Kevin knows better. He can _feel_ the rage radiating up from Sami, shoulders shaking against the cold ground as tears cut across his cheeks. Finn's shocked by this, but _he..._ _He's_ absolutely hysterical. Crouching on the floor beside Sami, using his pathetically breakable body as a shield against any of Kevin's future violence. He should just shatter him now, once and for all. 

Fuck, maybe he will.

Ignoring the fact that his lips still burn from the light press against Sami, Kevin glares down at  _ him _ . Sneers. "Hey."

_ He  _ looks up. Tears are streaming down those stupidly gaunt cheeks to soak through his scarf, but he doesn't speak. Traces fingertips across the mark he left as if he could wish it away, along with Kevin's presence in Sami's life. Not a fucking chance. 

"Sami's  _ mine _ ."

Kevin's words echo through the nearly empty practice space, leaving him oblivious to everything else. He doesn't care that others have witnessed this display; Tyler Breeze, Cesaro, and Neville are all watching him wearing expressions ranging from disbelief to horror. He doesn't care about the anger that bursts from Finn's eyes like hellfire. And he  _ really _ doesn't care about Sami's murmured words of comfort to that broken little fucker in his arms, or that phrases like  _ sweetheart _ and  _ love  _ ping off of his consciousness like mosquito bites.

*

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is allllll because I watched Rent while reading some awesome Kevin/Sami fics. So naturally, being the Sami trash I am, I immediately decided to slash him with Mark. I've been a Rent-head for so long, Mark/Roger was my first OTP.
> 
> As with all of my WWE fics, this story is written about the characters of Kevin and Sami, and not the actors that portray them.


End file.
